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Author Archives: Donna
Character Driven Part I: Peeling back the layers
It usually begins with an image.
The tilt of a head, or the turn of a hand.
He is standing in the doorway of a darkened room, daylight streaming around his silhouette, obscuring his true nature from the mind’s eye.
Or she is sitting alone on a curb. She is looking away from me, at nothing, I believe, as a tornado of urban noise swirls around us. I cannot catch her eye; she will not deign to acknowledge me. Her story eludes me in the beginning. She will not speak, but needs to be coaxed. Slowly, she rises to her feet, and the great journey of discovery begins.
For me, this describes the art of writing.
There is an image of a person, male or female, a mere shadow hovering on the edge of my consciousness. Yet, in my deepest soul, I know a story is waiting to be told.
So it was in the case of my first published novella, The Noon God. In my mind I saw Desdemona as clearly as you would see the person next to you on the bus. I saw the rush of long golden curls, the ice-blue eyes, the determined forehead. And I saw the father she had once adored: J. Caesar Fortune, broad-browed, full of pride, seemingly indestructible.
And yet, like all who claim mortality on this earth, capable of being felled. Capable of death.
Slowly, his legacy revealed itself to me: the many books, the lectures, the mass appeal of a life’s work.
I sensed the sunlight that shone always on this great man…no, not on him, really, more like from him. As if he radiated an inner light, casting the darkest of shadows on all who loved him.
So there was Desdemona, the disillusioned daughter of a renowned author. And there was Caesar, a man of singular passion, driven to greatness.
And then, in the varying recesses of that stage, there were ‘the others’, Lucy, Gail, Uncle Willard and Angelina, those lesser loves, whose lives were caught up in the vortex of that passion, and each, in its own way, damaged at the core.
The Noon God was inspired by and is dedicated to my late sister, Deborah, who died at nineteen years of age by her own hand. Like any survivor of family suicide, I’ve long been compelled to try to understand the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of such a final act.
I think it’s fair to say my novels are all primarily ‘character driven’. From my earliest as yet unpublished works to my latest, The First Excellence, I have been led around the globe by an obsessive need to peel back the layers, to discover the truth behind those silhouettes.
And as with most art, great and small, the true quest remains: the discovery of self. The telling of a story more real than imagined, by imaginary players on the stage of our minds.
Toronto this week — the good, the bad, the truly sad, and yes, the funny…
It isn’t easy being a proud Torontonian these days.
One’s ability to stand tall is stretched to the max, (especially in the case of the vertically challenged, like me!) and, by association with our beleaguered Mayor Rob Ford, we are finding ourselves subject to an onslaught of slings and arrows.
There seems to be no shortage of blame to go around, when it comes to our current situation. The reports I’ve read this week have placed the fault alternately, and in equal proportions, on:
1- The voters.
Although I did not personally vote for Mr. Ford, I will admit that on last election day I had no knowledge of the behaviours that would later come to light. I find it exceedingly unfair that voters, in their best of intentions and political conscience at the time of casting votes, should be expected to have known the Ford family’s darkest secrets.
After all, we’re not talking about Adolf Hitler here. The man, to the best of my knowledge, has merely been guilty of acts of gross mis-conduct. Any criminal charges have yet to be laid, and in any event, surely would not have been apparent to the public last election day.
2- The Ford family.
As someone who has experienced sharing a home with addicts (my father and previous husband) I find this one particularly sad. For the most part, family members are overwhelmed on a daily basis with such necessities as running the household, keeping young people safe, attempting to safe-guard themselves and the addict from the fallout of their addictions, and in many cases, simply trying to stay alive, despite often violent outbursts from the addict, and an inner insidious depression that can kill the soul.
No, the family is not to blame. They are not “Enabling”, they are simply trying their best to carry on, to support their family member while finding some elusive meaning in their own lives.
3- The Municipal Electoral process.
I’ve heard so many public cries this week to “Remove Ford” from his position.
However, in a democratic society, this can be a slippery slope.
I had hoped Mayor Ford (for he is still Mayor) would have heeded the calls to at least take a break, 3 to 6 months, to get his act somewhat together. I can understand his reluctance to step down altogether, as this might set a precedent where any elected official can be forced out of office without calling upon the democratic process. However, the decent thing would be for him to take that break, allow himself, his family and his ‘beloved’ city to cool off and perhaps save face.
No, in my opinion, the Electoral process is not to blame.
4- The Media.
Yes, there has been a frenzy, the likes of which I’ve seldom (if ever) seen in this city.
Yes, there has been much public flogging of this troubled man, far more than I personally feel comfortable with.
It’s almost as if the citizens of Toronto are looking at Mayor Ford on the big screen, as if he isn’t really a human being, but a trained dancing bear who needs to be poked and prodded in order to perform.
One gets the sense that it’s altogether too easy to point at this man and say, “Well, I may not be perfect, but at least I’m not Rob Ford!”
And the Media has played its part in this performance. Of course, they would argue that, without them, Mayor Ford’s acts of intensely poor behaviour may not have come to light at all, and they are right.
So no, as distasteful as I might find the on-going attempts to humiliate Mayor Ford and his family to be, I cannot blame the Media for pointing out ‘the obvious’.
And thank goodness for the Comedians, who work and play within the Media!
People like Jay Leno, Jimmy Fallon, David Letterman, Jimmy Kimmel and their kind, have, at the very least, given us permission to laugh!
We need laughter in these difficult times. And I don’t mean just the cruel laughter aimed at a man who is obviously deeply troubled.I mean that we need to laugh “Out Loud” at this situation we’ve gotten ourselves into. We need to laugh at ourselves, at Mayor Ford’s latest antics, at the whole damn mess!
We aren’t the first city to find ourselves embarrassed by the behaviour of our leaders, and we won’t be the last.
5- Mr. Mayor Ford.
Duh.
Addiction is a sickness, as I too-well know, having lived with my own share of addicts. We don’t look to blame people for their illnesses.
However, Mr. Ford must have known about his own impending descent when first he decided to run for this office. And he must now see the damage that has been done.
It’s time for Mayor Rob Ford to take a sober moment and think about what his next step should be, with our city’s best interests at heart.
There are, after all, other pressing issues our city needs to address.
According to CBC News, 348 people have now been arrested and 386 children rescued in what is being called an “international child porn case”.
Our Police Chief needs to either arrest Mayor Ford, or move on to new business. We need to ensure our city is not seen as a criminal-sponsoring hub of child-exploitation.
CTV News interviews Det. Cst. Lisa Belanger of the T.O. police child exploitation section.
Those who know me know this topic is very close to my heart.
Above all, a city/provice/country MUST protect its most vulnerable citizens: children, the sick and the elderly.
Less urgent, but no less pressing, our city needs some basic upgrades to its infra-structure, and not just of a cosmetic nature. Our roads and thoroughfares have been allowed to disintegrate for far too long, failing to properly service what is now known to be the fourth largest city in North America.
My recommendation for Toronto this week: Take a page out of the Al-Anon handbook for living with an addict.
There is work to be done. It’s time to put aside all differences and arguments and get on with the job of managing this worthwhile city.
If Mayor Ford remains at the somewhat unstable helm, so be it. Let’s get on with business and our lives anyway.
We’ll all get the chance to fix this problem on October 17, 2014.
Big news: the Launch Party date has been set for Thirteen!
JOIN US AT THE SLEUTH OF BAKER STREET on October 27 from 2 to 4pm for wine and nibbles!
Readers on the Couch: Why do people love mysteries? ~ guest blogger Cecilia Dominic
First, a huge thank you to Donna Carrick for inviting me to write this post!
As a psychologist and behavioral sleep medicine specialist, I hear the following three complaints most often in my practice:
1. I can’t sleep.
2. My mind won’t stop racing.
3. Why is this anxiety/depression/sleep problem happening to me?
I address the first two a lot. The third one doesn’t come up quite as often because people, being naturally curious about themselves and their own lives and minds, usually have a good idea of how their sleep problems started. However, when I ask if they can think of what kicked off their insomnia, about ten to twenty percent of patients frown, wrinkle their noses, and eventually admit they can’t say why or give some vague answer like “stress, but my life has always been stressful, so I’m not sure that’s it.” Some are very distressed that they can’t figure out the origin of the problem because, as human beings, we like to have explanations. Knowing why gives us a sense of control.
According to writing professionals, people love mysteries because it’s fun to play along with the detective to solve the puzzle, they like to know about why the murderers did what they did, and it’s a safe way to satisfy the thrill-seeker in all of us. They satisfy us on a deeper level when justice is served, and everything turns out, if not okay, then as okay as they’re going to be in a satisfying way. The appeal of mysteries goes beyond the good/evil story, though. I also believe they give us a safe place to explore the question of why bad stuff happens.
The mystery at the heart of the plot of my debut novel The Mountain’s Shadow, which was released October 1 by Samhain Publishing, is what happened to the main character’s grandfather and why, but the broader issue faced by the heroine Joanie Fisher, a behavioral health researcher who has just lost her job, is, “Why did all this awful stuff happen to me?” Isn’t this a question we all face at some point?
Part of my heroine’s struggle is that the answer lies in her own genetics, and the disorder she’s been researching takes on a frightening personal significance. Some might argue that this was a convenient happenstance for the purpose of story, but it grew out of experience. We had a running joke in graduate school that we study what we struggle with, so, for example, those of us on the alcohol research team had latent drinking problems. We didn’t, at least not any more than your average psychology graduate student, but you can bet it was something I thought about. I suspect that a lot of us who go into psychology wonder at times if we did it to fix something we don’t like about ourselves.*
In mystery novels, one of the fun parts is figuring out the motivation of the villain. My favorite villains are the ones whose reasons for killing, robbing, or other illegal behavior go beyond monetary gain or pure badness. Sure, sociopaths are interesting – to a point – and they can be very entertaining when matched up against their polar opposite (e.g., Holmes and Moriarty as portrayed in the recent BBC series Sherlock – sorry, but it’s been ages since I read the books, and I don’t remember if Conan Doyle explained Moriarty’s backstory), but for me, again, it’s got to go beyond pure good vs. evil. Even the definition is up for debate, as is explained in the book I’m currently reading, Humanity’s Dark Side: Evil, Destructive Experience and Psychotherapy. One of the questions the chapter authors keep coming back to is whether evil is just fundamentally present in some people, or if it arises from other circumstances. Several argue the latter, that people do “evil” things because of how they were raised, genetic history or biological factors, previous learning or other experiences, or societal circumstances.
So there’s another reason to enjoy mysteries: it’s hard to acknowledge the parts of ourselves that predispose us to end up in troublesome situations, but it’s fun to explore them in others. Whether it’s the genetics that make us likely to develop some sort of disorder or the mistakes parents made, we all have to face the origins of our own bad behaviors – and we all have some, although hopefully not at mystery villain level – at some point, or at least try to, and decide how to deal with it.
This brings me back to my heroine. She has to embrace, not fight against or avoid, what she is and what she learned from her past life as a researcher to rescue herself and her friends from a potentially deadly situation. She also has to face the consequences of some bad behavior in her past that eventually ended her up in her current situation. Since the big villain in the book doesn’t get revealed until the very end, I won’t tell you what that entities’ motivation is, but the apparent villain’s reasons for his actions have both evil and redemptive qualities.
So why do people enjoy mysteries? They give us a safe space to explore the questions of why bad things happen and how people overcome both external and internal factors to deal with their challenges. Who knows? Maybe thinking about what we identify with in these stories can point out areas we need to explore in ourselves, which may then lead us to some helpful explanations and growth.
* If this is the case, don’t go into psychology, just seek out your own therapy. Trust me, it’s less expensive and a lot less effort to face whatever it is than to avoid it by trying to fix it in others.
Cecilia Dominic wrote her first story when she was two years old and has always had a much more interesting life inside her head than outside of it.
She became a clinical psychologist because she’s fascinated by people and their stories, but she couldn’t stop writing fiction. The first draft of her dissertation, while not fiction, was still criticized by her major professor for being written in too entertaining a style. She made it through graduate school and got her PhD, started her own practice, and by day, she helps people cure their insomnia without using medication.
By night, she blogs about wine and writes fiction she hopes will keep her readers turning the pages all night. Yes, she recognizes the conflict of interest between her two careers, so she writes and blogs under a pen name. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with one husband and two cats, which, she’s been told, is a good number of each.
You can find her at:
Web page: www.ceciliadominic.com
Wine blog: www.randomoenophile.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CeciliaDominicAuthor
Twitter: @RandomOenophile
Some mistakes can literally come back to bite you.
The Lycanthropy Files, Book 1
First it was ADD. Then pediatric bipolar. Now the hot behavioral disorder in children is CLS, or Chronic Lycanthropy Syndrome. Public health researcher Joanie Fisher was closing in on the cause in hopes of finding a treatment until a lab fire and an affair with her boss left her without a job.
When her grandfather leaves her his multimillion-dollar estate in the Ozarks, though, she figures her luck is turning around. Except her inheritance comes with complications: town children who disappear during full moons, an irresistible butler, and a pack of werewolves who can’t seem to decide whether to frighten her or flirt with her.
Joanie’s research is the key to unraveling the mysteries of Wolfsbane Manor. However, resuming her work means facing painful truths about her childhood, which could result in the loss of love, friendship, and the only true family she has left.
Warning: Some sexy scenes, although nothing explicit, and adult language. Also alcohol consumption and food descriptions that may wreck your diet.
Words, beautiful words…
As writers, they are what we see when we close our eyes. They are our tools, our materials and our finished products. They have tremendous power over us. They can persuade, entertain, teach, inform, seduce, anger or sadden us. They lead us into our nightly dreams, and they greet us each morning as they march into our newly-awakened consciousness.
Author Janet Fitch (White Oleander, Paint it Black) once revealed in an interview that before sitting down to write she first reads passages from her favourite poetry. Doing so prepares her mind for the elegant flow of prose that is found in her books. Her skilful use of the words themselves is a testament to her love of them.
Many writers struggle with the modern reader’s expectations. How do we know whether we are saying too much or too little? Readers today have no patience for detailed description, long, eloquent passages that become redundant and insult their imaginations by leaving nothing undefined. And yet the educated reader still longs to see something of the art in our words. He wants to be elevated by the imagery as it unfolds.
A well-chosen phrase in the hands of a confident writer is like a bow and arrow in the hands of a skilled archer. One does not want to overshoot the mark with sloppy or flowery words. Nor does one wish to fall short and leave the reader wondering what the heck is going on. What we seek most ardently as writers is the ability to say exactly what we mean, in a manner that allows our stories to move forward while delighting our readers with some sense of our personal flair.
The goal then becomes two-fold as a writer of fiction: to use the language with precision, saying what we mean, and to also seek out subjects that will have ‘meaning’ to the reader. It is not enough to say what we mean, if what we mean is meaningless. As writers, people rely on us to broaden our perspectives, and to present them with ideas that will take them beyond their own existences.
Much is made of the old writers’ adage to “write what you know”. Today’s writer understands that, unless his personal knowledge of the world is already exceptional, he will be expected to leave his comfort zone on a regular basis. On the other hand, we don’t want to lie to our readers. That’s where research comes in.
I view writing not only as a tool to communicate ideas to the reader, but also as a motive for broadening my own understanding of the world. For me, this is where the real ‘art’ of writing is accomplished — in seeking out new ideas to grapple with so that I can present them to the reader with confidence and, I hope, with grace.
Today’s Book: Paint It Black, by Janet Fitch
After the sweeping success of White Oleander (and the movie starring Alison Lohman and Michelle Pfeiffer), the literary world watched in wonder to see what author Janet Fitch would present next. She did not disappoint. Paint It Black is the story of Josie Tyrell, an artists’ model from ‘way, ‘way over on the other side of the tracks, who falls in love with artist Michael Faraday, the wealthy son of a renowned pianist. But when Michael commits suicide, taking away the rose-coloured mirror of his love, Josie is left to question whether the ‘self’ she offers to the world is worthwhile.
This is not a whodunit. The mystery buried within this masterwork is a subtle one, as Josie is compelled to discover the root of Michael’s suffering. What she finds is that the special bond between a mother and son can sometimes be malignant.
Having lost a sister to suicide, I am sensitive to the trappings of melodrama and generalisation that can mar discussions of this issue. Fitch’s portrayal of the situation is both flawless and heartbreakingly human. She does not bury her dead, but conveys with breathtaking assurance that Michael remains a character to be reckoned with.
Paint It Black is not for the faint of heart. However, for the reader who is touched by the sheer poetry and poignancy of life, this book must be inhaled deeply and felt from the inside.
Donna Carrick, February 23, 2007
Happy Chinese New Year! (Gung Hey Fat Choy!)
According to tradition, preparations for the New Year celebration
are already well underway. My Chinese friends tell me that they have spent the
better part of this week cleaning their houses from roof to rafters, as the
New Year’s duck gently marinates in the refrigerator.
Of course, my on-going interest in Chinese culture and language is motivated
in part by the realities of our own family. Also, my current mystery
is set in China, so I am immersing myself in any detail that will lend truth to my fiction.
Because it is my policy to delve into the geography of whatever
region my characters happen to find themselves in, I’ve been slowly chipping
away at learning to speak Mandarin, to the embarrassment of my children, who
die a thousand deaths every time I fail to impress our Chinese friends and
neighbours with my poorly spoken Mandarin.
Just the same, it’s been fun drawing the intricate Chinese characters and
practicing the tones that give each word its unique meaning. I will
probably never be fluent in speaking Mandarin, but every new character
that I learn brings me closer to breathing the same air as my protagonist,
and that is important to me.
Today I’ve been thinking about this ancient Chinese tradition of ‘New Year’s
housecleaning’. I know that most practitioners take the custom very
seriously, believing that in order to receive any good luck in the coming
year, all bad luck must first be ‘swept out’ of the family home.
My Scottish ancestors had a similar tradition of thorough spring cleaning, as did
many Europeans. My parents took the process very seriously, right up till they passed away recently. I can remember my mother warning us to stay out of the house when she was using ammonia to strip the old wax off the floors.
Can it be that the ancients knew something that we have forgotten? I wonder
whether the act of cleaning one’s house was intended to represent a deeper, more
spiritual removal of dirt from the chi. Of course, that could be a copout on my part,
being the kind of slip-shod housekeeper that I am. But I can’t help feeling
that the real goal here must be something greater than achieving a shiny
counter top.
For my own part, as I scrub and vacuum and spray and wash our house tomorrow
I am going to keep this thought in mind: For each germ that I annihilate, I
am going to eliminate one stubborn grudge from my soul. So if I stick to my
plan, then by February 18th I should be ready to enter the New Year with a
clean heart, free from any residual pettiness or anger that I may have accumulated during the previous year.
Best to all, Donna
Thanks…
A special thanks to the folks at b2bWeb.ca for their help in putting this blog and website together. It’s a real pleasure to work with professionals!
Donna
Hello, readers and fellow-writers… – February 1, 2007
Welcome. My name is Donna Carrick, and I am the author of 2 mystery novels published in 2006: The Noon God and Gold And Fishes. Both books are currently available through Amazon.com.
Since this is my first-ever journey into the Land of Blog, it seems appropriate to tell you a bit about my purpose. Like most people living in the new millennium, I struggle to maintain various roles on a daily basis. First and foremost, I’m very fortunate to be married to the love of my life. Together Alex and I are raising three terrific kids, ranging in age from 4 to 22. Life is a blast in the Carrick household, between full time jobs, Mandarin classes, clarinet lessons, our dog Daisy and Dora the Cat.
Thank goodness ‘writing’ is a compulsion; otherwise I might never find the time!
Like every scribe since the first blob of ink splashed onto a page, my mission is to explore new ideas, express thoughts and concerns, engage the reader in stories that I hope will touch him or her on a personal level, and record something of value about the place and time we live in. I also intend to use this blog as a forum for exchanging notions with fellow-artists. Whenever I encounter a writer/painter/dancer/musician/etc. whose work I admire, I’ll tell you about it.
Above all, my purpose is to celebrate the written word in all of its crazy glory. If I can be true to the concept of pure expression, then I will feel that I’ve accomplished something worthwhile. That quest may take me down some strange roads, especially as I explore the connections that exist between literature, painting, music and the many other forms that art assumes.
I hope to use this forum to answer questions that may come my way. So if you have any, feel free to fire them off through the contact form on my Web page. I’d also be happy to hear about any specific topics related to fiction or art that you’d like to share.